i just want to tackle him ugh

Pink- Peter Maximoff x Reader

Request: [Peter Maximoff] where he’s in love with the human reader who one night falls asleep when hanging out in his room and the next day he wakes up to find her with pink hair or something whilst she’s still sleeping because big moments such as falling in love can trigger mutations???

A/N: I loved this request! It was so creative and unique, the requestor didn’t specify who they wanted the reader paired with so I hope Peter is okay!

Originally posted by soquick-muchsilver

“Okay come on Peter, just a few more problems,” a loud yawn followed your own words.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, kicking his feet up on the desk you two were sitting at, “we’ve done so many, plus I don’t even think you’re going to last that long,” he smirked at you. You gave him a small shove, but he was right, you’d been tackling his review for hours, it was well into the night by now, and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

“Come on Peter, I promised I’d help you pass your test and that is what we are going to do,” you rested your head in the crook of your arm on the desk. Peter rolled his eyes slightly, but sat forward picking up his pencil again.

“Alright number thirty-two,” you yawned again.

“(Y/N),” Peter murmured, “you look exhausted, and I really do appreciate the help, for real, but you can go, I can finish these, you seriously need some rest-” he had started rambling as he often did, so you sat up, rubbing your eyes and cut him off.

“I’m good, let’s do this,” you smiled at him. He smiled back, and returned to his work.

You don’t remember falling asleep after problem thirty-two, but you must of because when you woke you were no longer in the library, you were laying in a bed with a blanket draped across you, but it wasn’t your bed. You sat up quickly attempting to determine where you were, when you heard a soft snoring. You whipped your head to the left, and there sleeping in a cramped arm chair, with his legs hanging over the side was Peter Maximoff, silver hair a mess on his head. 

You must of fallen asleep in the mansions library, meaning he must of carried you here after that. You twisted a strand of your hair between your fingers, feeling your face flush a little, somewhat embarrassed he’d brought you all the way to his room.

Peter, suddenly sighed a little louder and you turned to see his eyes fluttering open. 

“Hey,” he smiled sleepily at you, then as if seeing you for the first time, his eyes snapped open. “Whoa (Y/N),” he suddenly muttered. You stared back at him, confused for a moment, then followed his gaze the the piece of hair you were still holding between your fingers.

“Shit,” you mumbled, realizing your hair wasn’t its’ normal (y/h/c), but instead had turned a light shade of pink. You quickly scrambled off Peter’s bed, rushing to his bathroom door and shutting it behind you. 

“(Y/N)?” Peter knocked on the wood after a moment. “Are you good?” he paused. You sucked in a breath and leaned your back against the door. That was your mutation, moments that resonated with you triggered a change in your appearance which reflected your mood. Your hair in this case, was pink. You pushed your self off the doorway and stepped in front of the mirror, placing your hands in the marble sink and leaning in to your reflection. Pink, pink because you were falling for someone and he was right outside that door. 

You couldn’t help it, falling head over heals for Peter Maximoff. His smile, confident demeanor, humor and relaxed personality who wouldn’t be into him. The hue of your hair shined a little brighter echoing your thoughts.

“Seriously,” you muttered angrily to yourself, this had to be the most embarrassing and pointless mutation, and yet you were gifted with it. Normally you could keep it in check, under wraps, but in moments like this it was hard.

“Is that your mutation? If it is it’s pretty cool, I mean hell changing your hair color like no one can do that, I mean I guess you technically can with dyes and shit, but you don’t even need that-” Peter had started rambling again, but stopped the instant you opened the door. You kept your eyes trained on the floor for a moment before raising your gaze to his. He took in your appearance again, stare fluttering over you hair, which was still, to your chagrin, pink.

“I mean it’s seriously sick,” he smirked.